Hiding James
by Pruina
Summary: A short one about being transgender and tentatively reaching out to someone trusted.


Luna was a pretty name. It fit a pretty face. A face with pale skin, blonde hair, high cheekbones, a soft personality and interesting eyes. For some reason, no one with the name Luna had eyes that fit the rest of their features. Then again, she had never met anyone named Luna. It was just her. A weird name, uncommon. It fit her perfectly. Except it didn't.

Her girlfriend's name was Jasmine. That was a pretty name too. It fit a pretty face just like hers did. A face with tanned skin, dark brown hair, almond features and a stubborn personality. All of that, her girlfriend had. There were plenty of people named Jasmine, and even though no one looked like her girlfriend, her girlfriend hated being common. She scowled whenever someone called out her name and it turned out the person wasn't speaking to her. No matter how much Luna told her she was individual, she always became irritated because yes, she was individual, so her name should be _hers. _'Jasmine' spoke of someone strong but soft. Her girlfriend's name fir her girlfriend perfectly. It did.

Luna loved her girlfriend. As a complete lesbian, Luna was happy. Her girlfriend was bi, and she adored her. But Luna wasn't right. Something was wrong. Her name wasn't hers. It was just…wrong. _Luna. _Such a feminine name. So obviously belonging to a girl. But Luna didn't want to be a girl.

James was the real Luna.

James was quiet. Really quiet. Because James was never allowed to talk. Because James was Luna. And Luna was Lames.

The technical word for it was transsexual. She was a boy in her mind. She was he. He was James. James was glad his hair was short. He also didn't mind his high cheekbones or his silver-ash-blonde hair. He even kind of liked his pale skin. His hair was of course cut short. Thank God for those cheekbones, or he'd never have gotten away with the short hair. With grim humour, he remarked that he was a guy with a brilliant fashion sense. He stared into the mirror, framed with photos of him and his girlfriend, and scowled at his form. He hated his chest. Small as it was, fitting his thin frame, it didn't fit him at all. Not really. His phone rang loudly, jolting him from his brooding. He picked it up and smiled because only one person ever called him.

"Hey!" Jasmine was on the other end and she sounded excited.

"You're echoing, beautiful" James replied, annoyed at his phone line. Jasmine laughed.

"I'm not echoing. I'm outside" she laughed again, overjoyed. James spun around in surprise and burst into scared laughter, hoping she hadn't seen him scowling at the mirror. She hadn't, otherwise he'd be under the interrogation light already, so he let his laugh become real as he left her through the window.

"How'd you climb that?" He asked, curious. He'd never been able to scramble up the bricks like that and he'd tried many times. She raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't think about the fall. That's your problem, angel. You always think about the fall". James tried to keep his despair off his face. It didn't work, but luckily she had turned around to jump on his bed. He tried to force his thoughts back onto a happier path but too was too late. His girlfriend didn't know. His girlfriend thought he was a perfectly normal female lesbian.

It was a fun afternoon. They didn't do much, they only lay on his bed and watched a movie. Jasmine had been close to falling asleep on his chest. He loved it when she did that. She looked so innocent, contrasting completely to her permanent mischievousness when she was awake. Like when she scaled the outside walls of his house. But his heart felt hollow. He had hidden James for so long. He didn't even know why. Jasmine was a flame in the heart of every single equality movement there was. She knew plenty of other transsexuals. Why was he so terrified of telling her who he was? Ten minutes after she had gone he still lay on his bed in the same position, fighting to keep his eyes dry. He wasn't sure he could feel any worse. Then he heard his family get home.

James' family were totally dysfunctional. His dad didn't hit him, his mother didn't hit him, and his brother didn't hit him. It was not a physically dysfunctional family. It was all in the words. His father appeared great to anyone who stayed around for a short time. Those people never really listened to him. But if they stayed long enough to hear the meanings behind the words, they'd understand. It was underhand. Never out in front, always hidden. Tiny comments, where other people might stop talking or even compliment their child, he would throw in a barb heard only by James. Always saying he could run faster or study harder. His every conversation with his father screamed _not good enough_.

His mother didn't do that, thank God. No, she just yelled instead. It was her automatic volume, no matter how far away James was from her. Constant noise. Something was always wrong, so someone was always yelling, and that someone was always her. _Mother Dearest_, he called her, because she hated it. But never to her face.

Then there was his brother. He shouldn't be, but he was disgusted by his brother. The kid never studied, _ever, _he never tried to do anything for the good of the household and he had no inclination to look after his own hygiene. His brother treated him like he was either invisible or he was dirt to be ordered around. See, James reasoned, if he studied, he'd know that dirt couldn't take orders. But he did it anyway. The worst part? His brother never studied, only ever achieved average marks in school, and his father never shot him with snide comments. His mother never yelled at him. Maybe it was because he was the _baby boy_. The youngest, is that it? James didn't know. And lately, finally, he had ceased to care.

The ceased-to-care thing worried Jasmine and he knew it. But it was better than the pain of seeing the look on someone's face when they see the pattern of the bruises, left behind by his favourite father in a fit of anger. His father didn't hit him much anymore, but only because he stayed out of the way. He'd never realised that a window could be his best friend. Did his parents know he snuck out every night and usually fell asleep in his girlfriend's bed? Probably not. He always came back before six. It was easier than the books made it out to be.

That night was the same as every other. He did his study, ate his dinner silently and said goodnight to those people he lived with. Then he climbed out of his window and dropped onto the section of soft grass that he used to cushion the sound, unable to crawl down the wall like Jasmine could. Sighing at the simplicity of his rebellion, he started the twenty minute walk to his girlfriend's house as it drizzled rain above him.

His thoughts were so loud, and they all argued about the same topic. _Tell her, tell her, tell her. _He kept his head down, the rain soaking his hair and making his fringe drip into his eyes. He couldn't tell her. He'd kept it hidden so long. She would be so angry, so incensed that he'd never told her before. Such a big secret. He clenched his hands in his pockets and hissed when his nails cut into his palm, feeling warmth coat his fingertips. She was so beautiful. Jasmine was his life. He couldn't lose her. But he would lose her if he kept hiding. He knew it would drive a wedge between them. His throat felt weird and he choked out air. It sounded like a sob. He stopped, realising the rain had stopped hitting him. He was standing under the patio of the park next to her house. His feet had carried him the whole way without needing his input. James saw her bedroom light on and he lowered his head, letting the sobs wrack his body.

"James" her voice was hushed in agony. He turned his head minutely. She'd been waiting behind him. She walked up slowly and grasped his shoulders, turning him around to face her, her expression horrified. She stooped to find his eyes and he looked at her, not bothering to hide his tears. The look on her face asked the question for her.

"I don't know why I never told you" he choked out, his voice thick. She nodded, letting him get there in his own time. Tentatively, she reached out a hand for his. He grimaced and didn't move to take it. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped closer, dragging his hand out of his pocket. She uncurled his fingers slowly and gasped when she saw the red crescents in his palm. As soon as she had finished inspecting the cuts, she turned on her heel and took a clean handkerchief from her pocket, holding it out in the now pouring rain for a few seconds. She came back, softly cleaning the blood from his hand, taking out the other and doing both. When she was finished she took his face in both her hands and put her forehead to his and whispered under her breath.

"You stupid girl" were her words and James flinched, and then the dam broke. He started crying in earnest on her shoulder, trying to explain at the same time.

"I'm not- I'm so sorry- I don't want to be- I'm not- _a girl_" he sobbed out, and she stepped back. He straightened, not sobbing but letting the tears continue flowing down his cheeks. Then she stepped back into the space and took his face in her hands again.

"You. Stupid. Boy" she whispered and James stopped in shock. He stared into her eyes and saw nothing negative. He blinked. Jasmine moved her hands behind his neck and pulled him down fast, kissing him hard. "You" she kissed him. "Stupid" she kissed him again. "Boy" she pulled him into a tight hug, not caring that he was soaked through.

Then she let go and looked straight into his eyes. She stuck out a hand. "What is your name, honey?" she asked in a formal tone. He shook it, amazed.

"James" he replied, surprised his voice was steady. She smiled warmly.

"Nice to meet you" and kissed him hard, and moaned his name when he pulled her closer by the hips.

"James."


End file.
